


Sherlock Holmes

by SherlockHolmes314



Category: Sherlock Holmes - fandom
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 12:04:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6283804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockHolmes314/pseuds/SherlockHolmes314
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Sherlock Holmes story, with a bit of a twist.  It's kind of just a hobby, and I will continuously be working on it, so it will pretty much always be in progress.  Cases and relationships will progress as I continue to come up with new ideas. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock Holmes

_'He can't be that bad... Can he?'_  
Watson was seated in a long hallway, thinking about the person he was supposed to meet in less than ten minutes over a crime scene. The thought had haunted him since he arrived in London. All that he really knew about his soon-to-be-partner was that his name, Sherlock Holmes, was well known, but that his reputation was almost non-existent, mostly due to the fact that barely anyone ever saw him. According to Scotland Yard and the London police, he had assisted - and solved - many cases, though always anonymously, his findings usually sent to the police via letter or text message; and they were never wrong. Overall, Mr. Holmes seemed to be a bit of a recluse; this would be the first time anyone had really seen him.  
The door with yellow police tape opened two rooms down, jolting Watson out of his thoughts.  
"John Watson?" An officer half-stepped out of the doorway, looking slightly pale. Watson stood, brushing off his coat, and walked across the hall into the room. Prior to this case, it was an office, complete with a mahogany desk and chair, filing cabinet, and various framed photos hung on the walls. However, there was a gruesome new addition to the contemporary decor, making Watson wince.  
A body was lying face up on the floor, limbs splayed. There was a gun on the carpet across the room, and two gunshot wounds on the body; one to the head and one to the torso. Blood had pooled around the cadaver and had soaked into the carpet, creating a scarlet stain in the otherwise white floor.  
Standing across the room, a man in uniform was speaking hurriedly to the pale officer, who nodded and left, a grateful expression on his face. Despite the situation, Watson couldn't help but smile slightly at the officer's speedy exit. Smile fading, he turned to the uniformed man.  
"I assume that you're Inspector Lestrade?" Watson shook the inspector's hand.  
"Mm-hmm. You must be John Watson, the doctor." Watson nodded and released Lestrade's hand, a question already on his lips.  
"Where is Mr. Holmes?" No sooner had the words left his mouth than the office door opened. Both men turned, expecting it to be the recluse detective, but, to their shock, a girl walked into the office. She didn't look more than nineteen, but she carried herself in a way that made her appear many years older.  
Watson was the first to recover. "Who are you?" Lestrade blinked and shook his head a little, then refocused on the girl.  
"It doesn't matter who she is. This is a crime scene; civilians aren't-"  
"On the contrary. It does matter who I am." The girl interrupted. "Also, I'm well aware that civilians are not allowed into a crime scene, which is why I was concerned as to why you told the officer that was enforcing that action that he was allowed to leave. However, since he has only been in the employment of the London police department for less than eight months, he probably became ill at the sight of the body which then drove him to ask you if he could leave." Lestrade was flabbergasted, but the girl wasn't finished.  
"You didn't want to have an officer getting vomit on the evidence, so you told him he could go, which then left the door unguarded, allowing anyone to enter. So in fact, the reason that civilians are now able to enter this room is not my fault, it's yours and your inexperienced mentee, who actually is supposed to be your protege, so in the end, the fault is entirely yours." Lestrade was now red in the face and quite offended. In an attempt to release the tension, Watson again asked the girl for her name.  
"I thought you would've guessed it by now." Watson's face wore a look of complete and utter confusion. The girl sighed, shook her head, and then composed herself. She stuck out her hand.  
"Sherlock Holmes. Nice to meet you."

~~~

 _"You?"_ Watson was shocked. "But, you're just...how can you be...everyone thinks..." Sherlock sighed, and dropped her hand to her side.  
"I'm well aware of what everyone thinks. And stop spluttering, Dr. Watson. It's unbecoming."  
"How do you know my name?" Watson was still processing the fact that Sherlock Holmes, the recluse detective - his new partner- was a girl.  
"I was under the impression that I was to be meeting a Dr. John Watson and Inspector Lestrade. I already know Lestrade, and you are the only other person here. Also, your posture suggests that you were recently in the military, you use a cane due to your leg injury from your time in the army, you have multiple scars on your hands from performing surgery on the battlefield, and you smell like coal smoke from your train ride to London. In addition, you have bags under your eyes from lack of sleep, probably due to the fact that you are having a difficult time adjusting to a normal lifestyle compared to your life in the army. Who else would you be?" Watson had to admit, she was good at figuring people out.  
"Now that we've wasted valuable time on validating whether or not I am Sherlock Holmes, I believe that there is a murder to solve." Sherlock seemed a bit annoyed, but at least Lestrade had calmed down enough to return his attention to the crime scene.  
"Yes, well... Ahem." The inspector cleared his throat; Holmes had begun to slowly walk around the office. Turning her head, she motioned for Lestrade to keep speaking.  
"We have yet to identify the victim, but we're going to be releasing his photo to the public in an attempt to get someone to come forward and determine who our cadaver is. Cause of death is obvious; two fatal gunshot wounds to the head and chest. Neighbor across the street heard the gunshots at around noon and called the police. We've already checked the gun for prints, but we couldn't find anything." Holmes showed no sign that she'd heard him, and had apparently finished her sweep of the room, pulling out surgical gloves and moving to examine the body. Tapping his foot, Lestrade waited for a response, and when he didn't get one, he huffed and continued.  
"Forensics already went over the room. They found multiple strands of hair that didn't belong to our victim, and they're running DNA over at the lab as we speak."  
Sherlock shook her head and looked up at Watson and the inspector. "They won't find the killer that way. Our victim was a businessman; he probably had clients in here all the time." Looking back at the cadaver, she grunted and lifted the body's head and chest so she could look at his back. Watson grimaced; from this angle, it looked like the body was sitting up on it's own. Clicking her tongue, Sherlock motioned for the pair to come over. "Look at the victim's back," she pointed out. "There is no exit wound, but yet the shirt is cut right here." She pointed to a small slit in the back of the shirt and carefully opened it as far at it would go without tearing, revealing at small stab wound in the victim's back, surrounded by dried blood.  
"The killer murdered the victim by shooting him, but she inserted a knife into the man's spine, severing his spinal cord, apparently killing him instantly." Both Watson and Lestrade were shocked, but Sherlock seemed calm enough to state the now-obvious new development.  
"This doesn't appear to be done by an amateur committing a crime of passion. This man looks to have been murdered by an experienced - and at least somewhat professional - killer."

~~~  
_To be continued..._


End file.
